I just returned from a week in Iceland, where I also celebrated a major milestone birthday together with my wife. It was one of those trips that stays with you — not because of what you see, but because of what it makes you think about.
We stood at Þingvellir, at the edge of a rift between two continents. You can see it with your own eyes — where the North American and Eurasian plates have been slowly pulling apart over time. A gap in the earth. And between them, volcanic forces rising to fill the space.
And I thought: that is sometimes what a difficult conversation looks like.
Two people. Two perspectives. A gap between them. And beneath the surface, forces that neither one can fully see — emotions, needs, fears, values, experiences that shaped who they are long before they walked into the room.
Most of us want to close that gap as quickly as possible. We push. We persuade. We try to pull the other person toward us. Or we walk away.
But Iceland teaches us something else.
The Icelanders did not try to eliminate the forces beneath the surface. They learned to work with them. The same volcanic energy that could destroy — and sometimes does — also heats their homes, powers their cities, and sustains their way of life. They did not pretend the fire was not there. They built around it. They built with it.
At the Blue Lagoon, I sat in water drawn from two thousand metres beneath the surface — heated by the earth, rich with minerals that have been forming for centuries. The lagoon was never planned. It simply appeared. And what was never intended has become a place where people come to rest and heal.
What if we approached our most difficult conversations the same way?
Not trying to eliminate the tension. Not pretending the differences are not there. But recognising that the space between two people — when it is held with curiosity and care — is where something new can be created.
The gap between two people in a conversation can create understanding, trust, and solutions that neither one could have reached alone.
But only if we are willing to stay in that space long enough to see what it can become.
Every conversation has that same potential.
The conversations that matter most ask more of us than words alone can provide. We need to have better conversations for a better world.
What is running beneath the surface of your most important conversation right now?
The Negotiator's Compass was written to help you find out — and to stay in that space once you do.
If this resonated, please consider forwarding it to someone who would benefit from seeing it.
— Howard